


Not so Friendly Rivalry

by Militia



Series: Star Wars Fics [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ace Jango Fett, Boba is learning to be a Little Shit, Bunch of dumbasses, Disaster Found Family, Enemy turned Aunt to your child, Enemy turned Reluctant Friend, Enemy turned uncle to your child, Not that any of them would admit it, Petty Bastards, Petty Bounty Hunter vs Assassin Rilvalry, Slow Burn Realisation of Friendship, obi wan is a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25511197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Militia/pseuds/Militia
Summary: Asajj and Jango keep interfering with eachother's kills and bounties, and strike up a petty rivalry, continuing to be thrown together by sheer coincidence that seems of only stroke the flame. A surprise bounty on one Obi-wan Kenobi, soon turns out to be the start of something that none of them expected, appreciate or are all too willing to admit to. After all, it's not like these three could ever be friends, right?
Relationships: Enemies Turn Friends
Series: Star Wars Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867885
Comments: 48
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened, well it still pissed him off, but at least it was a one time thing.

He’d finally crawled his way through the ventilation shafts, seriously why did no one put security measures in those things, and stopped down into his target’s room, only to find the man with no pulse in his bed after he’d been last seen a mere two and a half hours earlier.  
Forcing himself to breathe deeply, Jango slowly let out his breath, teeth grinding in his frustration, before turning and stalking away murderously. Terrific, first bounty after the disaster that had been Geonosis, and someone got to them first.  
Great.

The second time it happened, Jango had at least managed to secure four bounties under his belt before it, and at least this time actually witnessed the figure exiting the bar before going in, and finding his target already dead, this time throat cleanly cut. Whoever it was, clearly didn’t have any interest in taking any of these bounties in alive, only giving confirmation of their deaths.

Huffing out a frustrated breath, his lip twitched before he turned his back on the corpse, and stalked out of the room before someone came in and discovered it, ignoring the screaming as it started up somewhere behind him.

The third time was less than a week later, this time he at least managed to drop into the room, right as a red lightsaber shot through the chest of his target, their life dropping out of the body, before it deactivated and it fell with a thump to the floor.  
Holding back a low snarl of building frustration, Jango’s visor filtered the sudden dim in the lack of red light to find a pale, human appearing face staring back at him. Light eyes, bald head, some tattooing on their face, dressed from their neck down.  
It took him a second to place her, his eyes narrowing when he finally did.

“You’re the assassin,” he ground at with disgust, “Ventress.”

With a smirk, she casually turned her back on him, before walking out of the door beside her, without saying a word.  
Huffing out a low growl, Jango stalked forward, but when he poked his head through, peering off in the direction she’d gone, there was no sign of anyone.

To the other, he heard the sounds of someone approaching, and forcing himself to take a deep breath, he pushed himself back into the room, and climbed back out the way he’d come in. Through the shafts.

The fourth time, he was willing to admit, he was feeling rather smug at being the one there first, firing a shot through the forehead of his quarry, and taking identifiable proof of death, right as something landed lightly behind him.  
Spinning around, he found himself face to face with Ventress once more, this time ending with her scowling at the corpse, as he was prepared to leave and gather the reward.

“Looks like you got here a bit late this time,” he couldn’t help but comment.

Through narrowed eyes, she glared at him, before smoothing her features over and smirking at him.  
“Why my dear, I thought I should give you the opportunity to actually get a shot in for once.”  
Scoffing at her, he opened his mouth to retort, only for her to crouch, and take a flying leap into the air, up the side of the building they were in the alley of, and disappearing into the night.

Grumbling to himself, he grappled his way up to the roof himself before comming to the ship.  
“Boba, the mission’s finished. Get the ship ready.”  
There was a slight delay before he got a response, worry churning his gut for every second that passed.  
“Sure thing dad!”

Smiling softly, he picked up the pace, and got moving. 

A pattern emerged. Though, in all fairness, there wasn’t so much a pattern as, more coincidental run-ins where one, or the other, reached the bounty, usually right before they could get there or mere seconds before they made their own entrance.  
Ventress always went for the kill, which could prove to be a hassle, when Jango was attempting to bring in a target alive. Sometimes those particular brands of meetings ended with him shooting the quarry he’d just told would live if they followed directions, solely to stop her from attempting to go through him for her own kill.  
He supposed if he had a more stable moral compass, he’d feel guilty over so many deaths, but usually if you had a bounty out for your death, you’d done something or gotten involved with something enough to deserve it.  
At least the bounties that required them to be brought in alive always meant there was no chance of a run-in. The war helped as well, both to disguise his movements from a republic that was still at odds with him, stopping and Mandalorians or Death Watch from sending out their own bounties on him, and to call Ventress away, sometimes for weeks or months at a time, which gave him the freedom of the kills, so to speak, considering there were surprisingly few other hunters, and basically no assassins, on his level or prepared to accept a bounty he himself had picked.

It definitely helped him keep on the move, which kept Boba out of harm’s way, at least as much as possible.

  
The next hunt, things decidedly took a turn.

This one had tried sneaking away to his ship, in an attempt to throw Jango off his tail. A mistake on the bounty hunter’s part, considering it was his own error in being seen earlier that day that tipped the Rodian off that there was a bounty on him that was active. Still, it would have ended fine, he’d managed to corner him in his ship that was conveniently missing some key components that had disappeared the night prior, only to be thrown by something unknown and slamming heavily into the side of the ship, at the sound of an igniting light saber.

Snarling, Jango pushed himself roughly off the ground with one hand, his free hand whipping a blaster out to point at the spinning light in front of him, just in time for it to get wrenched forward and out of his hand, and to find himself pushed back against the side of the ship, and held there, feet dangling above the ground.  
Wheezing slightly as his lungs tried to pull air back into them after the rough treatment, Jango refocused on the woman now in front of him with a glare that burned through his visor. Coughing as his lungs slowly re-started, he attempted to shift, finding himself able to swing his legs below the knees, flex his hands, and move his neck and head. From his chest down to his knees though, something kept his body locked up against the cool metal behind him.

He shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear his ears of the ringing the metal of his helmet banging into the vehicle had created.

Scowling his way back to focusing on her, he stared at her through narrow eyes, taking in her tense posture, with her shoulders drawn up, feet planted shoulder width apart, outstretched hand clawed in his direction, and, like any sane person would do, smirked.  
“I take it your month’s gone well then,” he drawled lazily, feeling a flash of irritation when his helmet finally failed to filter the stench of burning meat.

The crease in her brows deepened, and he grimaced as her hand pushed forward slightly, finally locking his legs up to the ankle, and making it harder to move his neck as pressure built up onto his torso.  
Forced to take shallower breaths, head now straightened and pushed back slightly against the steel behind him, Jango’s teeth grinned together as he considered how to deal with this situation.

Just as he took a breath, preparing himself to try reason with the Sith assassin in front of him, she snarled, before dropping her hand, and him, with no warning.  
Falling heavily to the ground, he barely caught himself, stumbling to his knees, before looking up to see that she’d vanished, and without taking any proof of death with her.

With a frown, rubbing his chest which now ached under the weight of his armour, Jango rose on unsteady legs, considering his options.  
He could take the proof himself, and supply it as his own, but something in him recoiled at that idea, denying even the thought of betraying what little honour and code he had left.

With a heavy sigh, instantly regretting the excess movement of his lungs, he turned to the body…. well, half a body in front of him, the other apparently having fallen off the platform, and was glad to find it was the upper torso, head still attached.  
Taking proof of death, he reluctantly sent a comm of it anonymously to the guild, along with a side note claiming ownership signed Ventress, and limped his way off toward his own ship. Whether or not the assassin received the bounty, at least it would be on fair terms and by the Guild’s decree, not his own lack of honour.  
His pride wouldn’t allow anything else, after he’d already lost so much.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a few months before they ran into each other again.

Jango hadn’t caught wind of her being on any battlefields or seen anywhere in support of the separatists movement.  
He wondered if she was finally dead.

Humming mildly to himself, he brought his focus back on the job at hand, peering over the edge of the roof at the still empty side-street below.  
With a sigh, he double checked that the dart in his gauntlet was still loaded. It wouldn’t do for the target to walk out and for him to miss a shot bc of faulty equipment.

He tensed, when something scuffed behind him.  
Just before he could reach for his gun, a voice spoke.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you dear, we both know it wouldn’t do much anyway.”

With his fingers itching, he slowly turned around, leaning back against the raised ledge running along the sides of the roof.  
“Ventress.”  
“Fett,” she replied.  
Her face was obscured, a hood drawn up over her head, and a pull up scarf covering the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes and their tattoos as her only identifiable feature. At least his helmet gave him a feeling of even-footing in regards to hidden expressions.

With a sigh, his finger twitched lightly against his bracer when he forced himself to cross his arms, lest he give in to the urge to pull one, or both, of his blasters on her.  
“Here I was starting to hope you had died in that war of yours.”

“Surely you can’t mean that, after all, I thought we had a connection,” she purred, voice light and mocking.  
He was definitely starting to see why everyone had just as many rumours about her flirting in a fight, as they did about Kenobi.

Huffing out a sigh as he remained stubbornly silent, one ear on her antics, another on the alley below in case his target stumbled out in the middle of this interaction, she seemed to change tactics.  
“I need this informant alive-“  
“Funny, usually you’re the one making sure they’re dead.”

He questioned how sane he had to be to interrupt and mock a Sith, to her face, before shrugging it off and deciding that if it came down to a fight, he’d just have to try his damndest to win and kill her, and add Sith-killer to his name after Jedi-killer.

She shifted, leaning back on her feet slightly, one hand coming to rest on her cocked-out hip, right next to the saber still attached to it.

His eyes flicked down to her free hand, and the second hilt held loosely in its grasp. His trigger finger twitched lightly.  
With a light sound of disgust, still sounding to his keen ears like she was putting on a show, she swung the hand, gesture seemingly exaggerated by the glinting metal held in the palm. He was becoming more and more convinced it was an intentional addition to attempt to intimidate him.  
“Look, I need that informant, and I’m not above getting my hands dirty to get to him if that’s what it takes.”

Humming lightly, he found himself amused by the way the non-committal answer seemed to make her bristle, eyes narrowing at him, and fingers flexing against the curved hilt of her saber.

She scoffed, head swinging to the side before re-focussing.  
“I’ll even give him back to you, but I need information from him first.”

She ended the sentence with both hands on her hips, waiting for his answer. All the while, he was wondering why she was explaining herself and trying to reason with him instead of either trying to kill him to get him out of her way, or trying to just reach the target before he did. It definitely didn’t seem entirely in-character for her, and made him mildly curious what could have happened in the last few months to explain the change in behaviour. A wiser man would simply take the deal, considering it dealt with the issue of a confrontation, and still got him paid.

Unfortunately, he never claimed to be a wiser man.

“Why tell me? Why not go through me, or reach him first?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Ventress paced a few steps away from him before turning back.  
“Do you want me to go through you?”  
Fingers tapped lightly on the second saber, still on her hip, at the question.

Jango was sure sometime later he’d find himself cursing himself out for how he was acting, and antagonising a dangerous opponent when he simply didn’t need to, but he still found himself cracking his neck, and rolling his shoulders, leaning more comfortably on the ledge, hooking one foot around the other ankle.

Almost clear, icy blue eyes narrowed dangerously at him at his distinct lack of a response.

Jango was watching her carefully in case she finally decided it would be easier to just ignite her swords and try run him through.

Instead, she grit out in a low growl, whether or not he’d move aside and give her a free run to get her information.  
With a heavy sigh, Jango lifted a hand to wave over his shoulder.  
“Go ahead then, just leave him in enough pieces I can still collect the bounty.”

A nod, eyes narrowed suspiciously, Ventress half-circled him, jumping up to stand on top of the ledge precariously, unnaturally balanced as she did so.  
Just in time, as he heard a door open below, sound spilling out into the street as a human-appearing man stumbled out, calling out behind with back into the bar before making his way forward with a laugh.  
He head a low sound from beside him, before the Sith dropped down.  
Not caring to turn and watch, he tilted his head back to stare up at the cloudy sky, any potential stars that could have been seen blocked out by the sheer amount of light spilling from every corner of the city-scape he was in the corner of.

The man screamed below him, quickly cut off and muffled as he began to beg.  
Jango sighed, turning out the same old drivel. Seemed like Ventress was looking for his boss, he didn’t know, he had just been trying to protect his family, oh please oh please don’t kill me.

Bored, he pulled a blaster out, giving it a too-thorough eye over for supposedly being on a job, but from the sounds of the snaps and crack below and the man’s cut off screaming and whimpering, Ventress had it under control.  
When would people learn to stop lying to hunters and assassins. Did they think they wouldn’t do their research? Honestly, he could have come up with a much better lie than family man manipulated by a faceless leader. It was the first lie everyone always told to try get some compassion.

From the blubbering now happening, he guessed the man finally broke, spilling his guts to the Sith.

He shut up abruptly, a thud following him, before movement out of the corner of his eye had him glancing at the woman back up on the roof with him.  
“He dead?”

She snorted lightly.  
“Please, you make me sound so unprofessional. Just unconscious.”

With the barest incline of his head, he watched her leap away, quickly banishing into the darkness, before sighing heavily, and packing up the few tools he’d taken out to catch the man quietly. So much for that, he was just lucky no one else around had heard the man’s cries while Ventress worked.

Heaving himself over the edge, he fired up his jet just in time to land in a light crouch on the ground next to his target. Still breathing, just like the Sith said.

With a grunt, he pulled the man up over his shoulders, and leapt airborne, wobbling dangerously when his pack shot them higher, back up to the roof, to balance on the ledge.  
Taking a moment to steady himself, he dropped the weight off his shoulders onto the surface of the roof, before lifting a hand up to his comm.  
“Boba?”

“Here, dad,” he felt a small bundle fo tension dissipate at the near instant reply.

“Bring the ship over for pick up.”  
“Sure thing.”

He settled in to wait.


	3. Chapter 3

  
He glared silently at the puck in front of him.  
Glared at the price at the bottom of the holo when he turned it on.  
Then glared at the smirking face staring at him before the blue light flickered out.

He shouldn’t take it on. He really shouldn’t. He barely got out of that shit show that was Geonosis, he really, should not, fall back into it with the Jedi.

He took the puck with him when he left, stalking his way back to his ship.

He glared once more at the face on the puck in front of him, safe in the privacy of the cockpit now that Boba was asleep, the blue of the hologram flickering against the starburst of hyper-speed behind it.

With a groan, he dragged a hand down his face, hand curling until he was pressing a fist back against his forehead.  
He wondered briefly, who exactly wanted the High Jedi General of the Republic dead this time.

He checked the time with a frown, before pushing himself out of his seat and leaving the cockpit. There were still a few hours left before port, and before he had to socialise with people and stock up. May as well try get some rest before then.

It didn’t come easy. 

All too soon he was pulling his armour back on and walking down the ramp with Boba out of Slave I and into the port’s hangar, a bag with some weaponry slung over his shoulder. He could always see if anyone wanted to trade or buy.  
A part of Jango hoped his target wasn’t still here.  
A deeper part hoped he was.

“Dad, look!”  
Boba’s excited voice dragged him out of his pondering as he tugged on Jango’s hand. Subtly, because he hadn’t raised his son to draw attention in places like this, but energetic enough for him to huff with quiet laughter.  
Letting Boba lead the way out of the stream of people walking, he found himself dragged off to the side, where he could crouch down and follow where his son was pointing.

He felt a brow twitch at the colourful display he could see down a street, to the side of the direction they’d been heading in.   
It looked like a cultural dance, theatrical, with costumes and props and a number of dancers twisting in intricate moves.  
He could definitely see why it had grabbed the kid’s attention, it definitely wasn’t something they were used to seeing, especially this far into the Outer Rim. Usually performances like this were reserved for planet-side, or the larger ports further in.

A glance down let him know Boba was completely captivated by the sight.

With a sigh, Jango peered around, resigning himself to finding somewhere to take his kid so he could have a good view of the show. It’s not like they had anything that needed doing urgently, and he’d picked up more than the one puck from the guild, all with decent time lines. They could afford a break to give Boba some entertainment.

He made sure to pick one covered enough that he felt he could safely remove his bucket, dropping his bag at his feet.. Last thing he needed was to pick a bad spot so some lucky bastard could blow his head out with a random shot. They ended up on a low, private balcony, with a. Drink and plate of food for Boba.

After going so long without stops between the last few jobs, even Jango had to admit it was nice to just sit and watch a show. Even if half his attention was diverted to keeping track of their surroundings. That was just training and a life time of experience.

It was only due to that experience that he even noticed the minute flash of pale red out of the corner of his eye, quickly covered by a brown hood.  
Not that it did much for the general, with the soldier in full armour walking along beside him.

With a sigh, Jango turned further in his seat to keep the pair in his sights as they tracked their way through the crowd. Clearly, neither were expecting all that much trouble being out in the open.

Considering this port seemed a bit further on the quaint end and leaning away from hunting and trading businesses that usually drew in guild members, he could definitely give them the fact that usually they would have been just fine traipsing on through. Usually.

Instead, Jango fished through the bag at his feet, finding himself immensely glad he’d brought it on a whim, until he found his old rifle, and a pack of ammo for it.

Glancing back after the pair, he was glad to see they’d found themselves caught up in conversation with a street merchant. Good. That could only make his job easier.

With a sigh, he absentmindedly snapped the pieces of the rifle in place together, sparing a quick look at Boba who was still leaning heavily against the railing, enamoured by the sight below them.

Re-focusing, Jango leant the barrel against the railing, tucking the weapon into his shoulder, and peering through the scope as it zeroed in on the back of the jetii’s head.  
Deep breath in, and his finger slid smoothly against the side of the trigger.  
Deep breath out to steady himself.

One more breath in, and his finger fit smoothly against the front of the small lever.

As he breathed out, he made sure to keep the movement restricted to a twitch of his finger, and the shot was off.  
Only to immediately miss when a red blade swung up behind the general’s head, sending the shot careening off to the side, before a flat of blue lit up, and suddenly the two were exchanging blows.

Pulling the rifle roughly away from the railing with a scowl, Jango muttered curses to himself as he shoved the weapon back into his bag, ignoring the commotion beginning below them, before jamming his bucket back on his head.  
Boba’s attention was now on the sith and Jedi moving away from them, all while still exchanging blows.  
Jango turned just in time to catch sight of the armoured soldier planting a round-house kick against the side of Ventress’ head, distracting her long enough for Kenobi to leap into the air, and likely with some kind of Force nonsense, the soldier found himself yanked up into the air after him, right as the assassin’s blade whipped through the space he’d just occupied.

Frustrated at the blown opportunity, but mildly vindicated by the sight of what was likely one of his clones knocking the meddling assassin in her head, Jango turned to leave. He'd find a way to get back at her for messing with his kill some other time.  
“Come on Boba, time to go.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous”

Jango huffed out a sigh, head falling back as his eyes slid closed.  
Dropping his head back down, he pursed his lips in annoyance, hands on his hips, as he stared at the floor in front of him.  
The floor of the empty apartment, that less than a half hour ago, had without a doubt held his target, based on the tracker he’d slipped onto her earlier that day.

This one wasn’t even a kill order. It was a retrieval. A retrieval, and yet, based on the piece of flimsi mocking him from the small coffee table in front of him, it was a retrieval that Ventress had taken, and completed, apparently minutes before Jango had had the opportunity to.

He was too professional to groan. Now he just had to remind himself of that, as he turned back to the open window, and jumped out of it, grappling up to the rooftop.

He was also above petty revenge, even if he did want to go and break something of Ventress’ ship.

Well, he thought, as he checked his com, blinking silently with a new message. He was above that particularly low standard of petty revenge.

“Boba,” he flicked open a line.  
“Here dad.”

“Get the ship ready, I’ve got a new target for us.”

He shot off a quick reply, a quiet message to Kaz that he’d also be looking into the target.  
He didn’t bother checking the message she sent back. He was well aware the assassin had already claimed it but by Manda was he apparently perfectly willing to stoop to the same petty lows he used to when he first took up hunting.  
He did have to admit, there was a certain thrill in a race, now that he was committed to one.

They left the planet quickly, Boba not bothering to ask where they were going, even if Jango could see clearly how curious he was. Not bad discipline. Certainly leagues better than anything Jango himself had had any measure of when he was that age.

He reached the planet with minimal difficulty. He found the address with even less. Setting the Slave I down on a landing area a few buildings over, Boba followed him out as he walked out onto the ground.  
“We’ve got some time to set up before I have to get over there, so we’ll take a look around and see if you can’t figure out where we should set you up as my back-up okay?”  
“Okay dad,” nodding his head vigorously, Boba bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. Being cooped up on the ship for the extra trip over without a stop had clearly done his energy levels no favours.  
Jango grimaced a bit and made a mental note to remember that he wasn’t making these kinds of trips alone anymore, and to keep that in mind the next time he thought to set such a big gap between stops.

Walking around, he’d chosen to forego his armour for the initial scout, not wanting to draw too much attention where he didn’t have to, especially while Boba was out with him.

“What about up there?”  
Glancing up to where Boba had pointed, he did have to admit it was a decent spot compared to the rest of the options that seemed to be available.  
“Not bad, but see how it’s lower than the few roofs behind it, if you had to line a shot up right on the edge, it could be easy for someone to sneak up and drop down on you before you had enough time to react. And too far in the corner, the exit from the stairwell wouldn’t protect you from a shot to the back. So not bad son, but you should always look for better.”

  
“Right.”

With that the two were back to searching.

Finally after another half hour of walking around, as much like civilians as the two were capable of being, Boba pointed out another possible spot, the fifth or sixth they’d checked out all up.

Considering it, Jango glanced back toward the address he’d need to be able to see, nodding thoughtfully.  
“Looks good so far, plenty of places to drop down, a bit far away from the ship, though there’s another landing just over there so we could just move the thing over. Not many places people could sneak up on you before alerting you, as long as you were paying attention..”  
Mulling it over a touch longer, Jango finally nodded his assent.

“Seems good son, we’ll just move the ship, then get you situated and we’ll be ready with a couple minutes to spare from the looks of things.”  
Beaming, Boba picked up the pace heading back, clearly proud of himself. Jango had to admit that he was feeling pretty proud of him too. He definitely had a good eye.

Shifting the Slave over, Jango got dressed in his armour this time, sending Boba out with a small blaster and knife hidden on his person, and taking off after him as discretely as possible.

His jetpack gave him the advantage of speed, so he took the time to double check the position was as safe as it could be for his ad’ike.

Finally Boba reached him, and he felt the small ball of stress in his chest dissipate. It didn’t matter how capable the boy was, he always felt better when he was close, or if safer, in the ship and away from any possible action.

He was starting to think his son may take a bit too much after him now though.  
“And it’s unloaded right?”  
“Yes dad.”  
“And your blaster’s full powered so that should be good if anything happens-“  
“Yes dad.”  
“-and you have your knife if it reached worst case scenario-“  
“Yes dad.”  
“-and the sniper’s set up, and the scope got checked the last time we took it in-“  
“Dad, I got it, but you need to go get into position.”

With a sigh, Jango frowned, chewing on his lip and contemplated the advantages of triple checking all the gear again.  
Boba let out a loud sigh, pushing himself up to his feet to stand over and push him roughly n the chest.  
“Hey-“  
“I’ve got it sorted dad, trust me.”

With one more sigh, staring at his son’s defiant face, Jango finally relented.  
“Fine, but you have your comm right next to you, and call me out if anything goes even slightly off schedule.”  
“Yes, dad, I know, we go through this every time, I know what I’m doing.”

With a nod, Jango slipped his bucket back on, and took his leave with a final warning to Boba to be safe.  
He wondered if this was how Jaster ever felt taking him out on hunts.

Shaking the thought away, he concentrated back on the hunt at hand, landing lightly on the roof, and using his grappler to climb his way down the side of the building to his target’s window.

Breaking in, he was glad he still apparently remembered how to pick through security systems without setting off any alarms.

“You’re all good dad, no alarms raised, and target’s just about to enter the building.”  
“Copy that.”

He crept through the apartment, double-checking that the tranqs were ready to fire in his bracer.

Another few minutes, and finally, he heard noise from outside the front door.

The target entered, cheerfully saying goodbyes to someone who continued walking, and as soon as they had shut the door and locked it, Jango stepped into the room, and fired two darts into their neck.

Grabbing them, he threw them over his shoulder.  
“All good to come out Boba?”  
A moments silence that seemed to stretch on before he got the affirmative.

Before leaving though, he stopped, back tracking to the sofa, and pulling something out of his pocket to throw onto a cushion, before making his way back over to the window.

With a grunt, he jumped out, firing his thrusters and landing awkwardly into a stumble when he hit the ground.

Heaving himself upright, Jango made his way back to the Slave, glad that it was starting to get late enough he didn’t have to go through that much work to keep out of sight, and throwing the body into a cell, onto the cot, handcuffing them to the frame.

Locking the door on the way out, Jango got back down to the ramp just in time to see Boba pop up across the landing pad, and totter across, his gear already packed up into a bag across his shoulders.

Smiling, he leaned against the door and waited the few seconds for him to get there, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings in case anyone attempted to take a pot-shot at his kid.

“Hey dad!”  
Taking the bag from his slightly out of breath son, Jango lifted the ramp and the two made their way to the cockpit.  
“Did we get him alright?”  
“Yeah we got him.”  
With a laugh, Boba went and swung himself forward in his co-pilot chair, strapping himself in.

“Alright,” Jango joined him, strapping in and firing up the ship.  
“Time to go collect our reward.”

Back in the target’s apartment, a small puck sat innocently on the couch, laying claim over the target from one Jango Fett.


	5. Chapter 5

Eyes closing, Jango thumped his head back against the wall in frustration.

He’d been having a good few weeks. A really, really good few weeks. He found a couple more bounties to pull in, and was still smug that one of them had once again been one of Ventress’s. He’d been able to take a few days off each week to just spend time with his son, take him out to see some sights in areas he was not going to get shot at or that the war was going to fall on top of their heads. It had been good.

So why, he wondered, did all of that good, apparently ditch him for a nice good kick in the shebs in the shape of this kriffing job.

He’d been having such a good run. Now, he was cuffed, basically sitting on his hands, which pulled at his elbows and shoulders in an odd, pinching, unpleasant way, in a damp cell, mentally cursing the dislocations he could feel in a few of his fingers that was only making this position all the more grating.  
Apparently, this job had had a few more contacts than he had assumed. This is what he got for making assumptions, he guessed.

A slap whipped his head to the side, sending his ears ringing and headache blaring. With a grimace, Jango took a breath, before slowly turning back toward the smug bastard in front of him and opening his eyes to look up at the man.  
Keeping eye contact, he spat out of the side of his mouth, tasting copper.

Instead of saying another word, clearly catching on to the fact Jango wasn’t listening, the uptight, self righteous moron stalked out with all the grace and dignity of a stumbling toddler.  
Jango would know, he’d seen almost that exact stride every time he’d had to send Boba back to the ship or to his room when he was between three and six years old.  
Though, even at that age, his son had had more fine motor control than that di’kut.

Sighing, Jango stretched his neck out side to side, shifting his shoulders as much as he comfortably could, before twisting his hand to reach his fingers up into the cuff of his sleeve, and rip into the small hole there to reach the lock pick he kept there.

With a final click, the cuffs fell to the floor, and with a sigh of relief Jango finally rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension they were holding.

He wasn’t sure if he should feel reluctantly grateful, or insulted when he found the door wasn’t even locked, and that there were no guards or even cameras in the hall outside. How the kriff did he even get caught by this moron again?  
Rolling his eyes, feeling his lip twitch in a bit of a sneer, he shoved any thoughts of his own performance to the side to deal with later. Right now, the important thing was getting out back to Boba, and preferably punching the smug son of a Hutt in the face while he was at it. 

At least Jango hadn’t been wearing his armour, the last thing he wanted was for the bastard to have taken it after knocking him out as some sort of trophy. Though, he did find it odd that they’d targeted him at all. Most people outside fo guilds thought he was dead or didn’t know him, especially when he was out of armour. Something to worry about later.

Then he ran into his first issue, beyond the original of being kidnapped in the first place.

A sentry gun that almost riddled him full of holes waiting around the bend into another hallway.  
Gritting his teeth in annoyance, glaring against the tension behind his eyes that was beginning to let itself be known, Jango glanced around hoping to find a ventilation shaft or something he could use to get past the thing.  
No luck, until his eyes drifted to the grid-wired floor below his feet, and the crawl space below that.

Pulling out his small kit again, he got to work twisting a few of the screws holding the corner of the vents in place out, so he would hopefully have enough room to push his way through under it without having to take off the entire square of floor.

Just a couple more screws to go. Hopefully it’d be enough. Any more would just be an annoying waste of time.

A door slammed open somewhere nearby, and shouts drifted through the space toward him.

Time it didn’t look like he had.

Gritting his teeth when the stupid thing slipped out of the screws groove, he forced himself to take a breath before starting again. This was hardly the first time he’d had to escape someone, and given how incredibly incompetent they seemed to be he’d be fine as long as he kept his head about him.

One more to go, just in time to hear more shouts, this time close enough for him to make out rough words in whatever language they were talking in. The sound of thumping feet echoing against the metal.  
“C’mon, c’mon.”  
Finally the screw dropped out, and he made quick work of shoving them all into various pockets in his pants, before pulling the grip up as much as he could.  
It’d be a tight fit, but it should do.

More shouting, and the sentry gun whirred to life, firing more bolts, apparently down at them judging by the lack of new blaster bolts hitting the wall in front of him. He had to huff out a laugh at the incompetence, even as he seriously questioned how they ever managed to get the drop on him. He must be losing his touch.

Swinging his legs down, he shoved them through, before feeling the weight of the flexing grid press down around his torso painfully, arms at too odd an angle to be of any real help to keep it off him.  
Gritting his teeth, Jango shoved his way through, snarling against the scraping of the metal and wires against his shirt, and then his skin as the fabric rode up, caught by little grooves in the imperfect metal.

Biting down on any sounds that wanted to escape, he bared his teeth when he finally got his chest and head through, only for the metal to land heavily on his arm and wrist respectively. Feet kicking against the metal below him, he scrabbled for a few short seconds before finally managing to force his feet under him, twisting his body enough that it strained painfully against his elbow, tugging at its place in its socket.  
Focussing on his breathing, Jango pushed carefully, pressing his shoulder against the grid until he felt it give and lift, and he could finally yank his arms the rest of the way through, just in time to hear more yelling around the corner, and the gun power down.  
With a few more grunts, and painful jolts of joints against the metal surrounding him, he managed to get headfirst in the direction of that hallway, and began to crawl, taking care to keep his elbows and knees from banging against the walls around him, and his head and back from hitting the grid above him.

He stilled, breathing as slow and quietly as he could, when he heard step coming toward him, and hoped that they didn’t look down.

He also hoped that the screws left in the grid now behind him were enough to keep it up and not dip under their weight.

The steps walked over him, and felt a touch of the tension in his shoulders ease as step by step, the group walked past, straight toward the unscrewed portion of grid.

He didn’t dare twist his head, just holding still, every muscle wrought and tense.

The door to his cell clanged open, and a new round of yelling started back up, and there was more clanging and pounding as boots hit metal, the sound ringing all around him and echoing through his ears, feeling like little daggers piercing his brain.

He grit his teeth, bowing his head to press it against the cool, damp metal below him as he waited for the yelling and running to move.

It finally did, rounding the corner, and leaving him behind.

With a sigh, he finally felt the knot of tension finally untangling. Unfortunately, it also lodged loose the growing headache to strike in full.

He had to get moving. So, with a grimace, and doing his best to work his jaw around to attempt to relieve some small amount of tension, he finally got crawling again, slowly moving his way forward, determined to get out, grab a gun, and when he got there, decide between just punching or shooting the annoying bastard who grabbed him in the face.


End file.
